Holy Bananas Robin, It's The Fruitbat!
by Lucillia
Summary: Inspired by Rorscharch's Blot's Things I'd Like To See In a Fic #449: The movie Bruce Wayne saw before his parents were gunned down was Zorro, the Gay Blade, leading to a much more flamboyant superhero. (Collection of oneshots, not in any particular order).
1. It's The Fruitbat!

Bruce Wayne kicked a rock across the cave beneath the Wayne family mansion. After the deaths of his parents, he'd decided to devote his life to fighting those who would threaten the people the way Zorro would've. He couldn't just become another Zorro however, seeing as the name and costume had already been taken, and everyone would just laugh if he said he was Zorro. He needed to be something that would strike fear into the hearts of the criminals of Gotham. He needed to be something everyone would recognize and know to run in fear from.

He needed to be...

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Get it out of my hair! Get it out of my hair! Get it out of my hair!"

"Hold still a second Master Bruce."

He needed to be a bat.

**20 Years Later:**

The woman whimpered in fear as she was dragged into the alley. The blade that was pressed against her throat kept her from running, and the hand across her mouth kept her from screaming.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll keep silent bitch!" the large man who'd grabbed her growled into her ear as he lowered his hand from her mouth, running it across her front before it reached the button of her jeans. As he was lowering her zipper, something bright gold and vaguely bat shaped sailed past her ear and hit him in the head. The knife fell from her throat as he fell backwards.

Suddenly, from the shadows, a bright figure whose costume put Superman's to shame when it came to utter tastelessness appeared.

"Are you alright miss?" the garishly dressed figure asked in an exceedingly campy voice.

Unable to formulate a reply, the woman stared at the bright orange figure in a bat costume that looked like it was made of satin and velvet.

A moment later there was a groan from the woman's would-be rapist and an exclamation of "Oh Shit! It's the Fruitbat!".

Still unable to move, she watched as the Fruitbat approached her would-be rapist with a red satin ribbon and said "Let's tie you up in a pretty little package!". The screams that followed as the Fruitbat tied her would-be rapist up in a manner that she'd once seen when she'd explored her father's bondage porn collection out of curiosity almost made her pity the man.

Almost.

As she watched in stunned horror, she felt a hand settle itself on her shoulder in a manner that was probably meant to be comforting, but caused her to flinch and jump back. Turning, she saw that the hand belonged to an adolescent boy who was dressed in clothing that was a drab brown, aside from the dull burnt orange front of his short-sleeved shirt.

"Before you ask," the boy sighed. "My name's Robin, I'm with him, and no, he doesn't molest me."


	2. Pave Paradise and Put Up a Parking Lot

"And, I'll need one in green. One in orange, one in pink, one in gold, one in canary yellow..." Bruce Wayne who was wearing the most somber business suit ever said in a most manly voice.

Lucius Fox sighed as he began trying to figure out how the hell he was going to order so many of Waynetech's prototype armored vehicles and in so many wildly different colors without calling an incredible amount of attention to it. The motorcycles hadn't been easy, and damn near gave the secret away. If he hadn't gotten the Wayne Enterprises Board of Directors to sponsor that charity race as a PR move...

Maybe if Wayne Enterprises sponsored some sort of destruction derby that was also meant to showcase their military technology...

He could say that they sold the vehicles to some rich idiot who'd snapped up the whole lot under the condition that they donated the proceeds to charity if he were ever asked. Of course, it would mean that Bruce would have to transfer even more money to one of the Waynes' charitable foundations, nearly doubling the cost of the vehicles, but it wasn't like Bruce couldn't afford it...

**Later, at the Batcave:**

"Master Bruce," Alfred said as he held the charcoal grey jacket his employer had stripped out of as he changed into his costume for that night's activities, the yellow and green one this time "Do have a care for the bats, they were here first."

"What do you mean Alfred?" Bruce said, shifting from the voice of the man people said had to be the most boring and responsible billionaire on the planet to the one that brought terror to the hearts of every criminal who encountered him. Either that, or complete humiliation over the fact that someone who was obviously gayer than Liberace and dressed more flamboyantly than Lady Gaga had gotten the drop on them.

"To put it mildly sir," Alfred said, making an expansive gesture that took in the whole of the cave "This place is starting to look like a parking lot."

"You could say that again." the drably dressed Robin grumbled from underneath the plain black motorcycle that sat alone amongst dozens of vehicles in every color of the rainbow. Some vehicles even were every color of the rainbow.


	3. One Day We'll Blow This Joint

"You know Puddin', with the amount of attention you pay me, I don't think anyone would blame me for thinkin' you were gay for Batsy." Harley Quinn said to the green-haired figure who was poring over a map, trying to plan an escape from Gotham with enough resources to set up elsewhere.

Harley had fallen in love with the Joker during their therapy sessions at Arkham for several reasons, two of which were his brilliant sense of humor and his ambitious plans. Having been a psychiatrist, she knew full well that she wasn't entirely healthy, nor was the relationship, but with the Joker, she was FREE. With her Puddin' she could be every last bit of herself no matter what society had to say about doing so. With the Joker, she could laugh at things she'd been told throughout her life were wrong to laugh at, black and blue humor notwithstanding. With the Joker, she could rip up that little box called "Normal" and that other little box called "Sanity", and throw them in the trash. One day, if he could just escape Gotham with a bit of starting capital, the Joker would be going places, and she'd be right there by his side when he did so.

About the only reason the Joker was still in Gotham was Batman whom just about everyone called "The Fruitbat". Almost every time they'd knocked over a bank or hit a charity event on their way out of town, the Fruitbat had caught them before they'd reached the city limits and chucked them back in Arkham.

Why the staff at Arkham didn't put the Fruitbat in his own little padded room, she didn't know.

They'd managed to get across the Metro-Narrows bridge and into Metropolis once. Superman had found them before they could get settled, taken one look at her Puddin', given him what could be best described as the most evil grin in the history of evil grins, and dropped them back at Arkham. They hadn't gotten past the Gotham city limits since then, but one day they would.

Her Puddin' was afraid of the Fruitbat for several reasons, and one of them was his homophobia. It wasn't like he was the sort of lunatic who'd go out of his way to kill gays for being gay, but he didn't like being hit on by them at all. Not. At. All.

On the day they'd met, the Fruitbat said something that sounded like he'd be havin' him and not takin' no for an answer. The fact that the Fruitbat absolutely refuses to let him out of Gotham has done absolutely nothing to dispel this notion, and her Puddin' has spent the last few years absolutely convinced that the only reason the Fruitbat hasn't raped him by now is because of the armor he wears in his underwear.

Today's planning session was going just like the last hundred. Her Puddin' was poring over that map of Gotham, constantly muttering and running his hand through his hair which was looking rather mussed at the moment. From the looks of things, it didn't seem as if he'd heard her. It would seem that she would have to try again.

"I said," she started a little more loudly than the last time. "You know Puddin', with the amount of attention you pay me, I don't think anyone would blame me for thinkin' you were gay for Batsy."

The Joker's head rapidly shot up, and there was an almost frantic look in his eye as he started fawning over her, promising to get her anything and everything her heart desired.

Heh, works every time.


	4. Crap! It's time to light the Bat Signal

Police Commissioner James Gordon sighed. He was going to get flack from every religious organization, parent's group and average citizen of the cities of Gotham and Metropolis who needed to get to work in the morning for this._ Again. _But, he needed professional help on this case. Help that the police weren't equipped to provide thanks to the city's tight-fisted budget.

Trudging into the bullpen, he grabbed a random officer.

"Yes Commisioner?" the young man who barely looked old enough to have graduated the Academy asked.

"I need you to go and light the Bat Signal." Gordon said grimly.

Looking as if he'd wondered what he'd done wrong in a previous life in order to deserve this, the young officer made his way to the stairs in order to postpone the moment for as long as he reasonably could without getting written up for insubordination. Deciding that he didn't want to be the one to brief the Fruitbat on this latest issue, Gordon turned and handed the case file to a rookie detective, and headed back to his office in order to sort through the angry letters he'd received the last time the bat signal was lit. Some of the more interesting ones had been copied and passed around the office, with the originals being preserved for posterity. With the sheer volume that poured in just about every week, a letter had to really stand out before it was shared.

Grabbing a likely looking note that had been sealed in a smoking red envelope that looked to have been made by a mad scientist who happened to also be a Harry Potter fan, he opened it in order to read it. His ears wouldn't stop ringing for two days after it had finished reading itself.

So far, it looked like the only people within a hundred miles of Gotham who approved of the Bat Signal were the Gotham City Tourist Board and the Fruitbat himself.

**Meanwhile in Metropolis:**

"Shit!" Superman groaned as he covered his head with a pillow, trying to shut out the thrice damned rainbow-colored bat-themed lightshow over the skies of Metropolis' evil twin which was only a bridge away, and the groans of millions of angry 9-5ers who'd been awoken the same as he.

He'd been up for the last 120 hours straight, and had hoped to snatch a full two hours before he started his usual slog once again.

"I'd shove that damn bat signal where the sun doesn't shine, if I weren't half convinced Bruce would enjoy it!" Superman groaned as he pressed the thick feather pillow that Lois's father's secretary had given him and his bride as a housewarming gift in Lois's father's name more tightly around his head, sending a scattering of feathers across the room as said pillow ripped.

"Whaddja say honey?" a sleepy voice asked next to him.

"Nothing Lois, go back to sleep." Superman, who would not be getting any sleep anytime soon, grumbled.

Too late however, Lois was now wide awake.

"Goddamn it! That's twice this week!" Lois yelled as she looked out the window. "That's it! The Fruitbat's "Secret Identity" is going to be on the Planet's front page tomorrow! This has to stop!"


End file.
